Untitled
by Ate Monay
Summary: DISCONTINUED
1. Prologue

**And yet again, I'm starting a new story in the midst of an incomplete one. Damn, I hate myself for not being motivated enough to actually finish my stories. Someone get a gun and hold it to my head while I write so I'll keep at it. Anyway, this story is about Cheng in the 2010 Karate Kid movie; he's the evil Chinese kid who beats up Dre in the first part of the movie (this kid is crazy good, it's insanity. He's one of the reasons I actually liked the movie). I wouldn't really classify this as a story, per se, more of a collection of short stories that somehow all connect to form one big story, if that makes sense. The pairing is Cheng/OC and some Cheng/Meiying. In this story, Cheng is thirteen-going-on-fourteen. In a recent interview from the Beijing Premiere, Zhenwei Wang (the young actor who plays Cheng) states that he is 15-years-old that year, which could mean he's probably fourteen-going-on-fifteen. That was probably unnecessary info, but oh well. In this story, Cheng's family name is going to be Wang (like his real name), and since in China last names go first, it's going to be Wang Cheng, then, got it? I don't speak any Chinese at all (please be kind), so basically, if I type in regular like **this** then they are speaking Chinese. If I type in **_italics_ **then they are speaking in English. Now that we all understand each other, let's rock-n-roll...**

**P.S. Anyone wanna take me on for beta? Thanks...**

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**Untitled**

**Prologue**

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The hallway was empty. Deserted, even. Like a ghost town of old western movies. The air seemed thicker in there and the halls' lone inhabitant, a small boy in a fiery uniform, seemed to have to work even harder to breathe normally as he nervously anticipated what he knew was inevitably waiting for him beyond the swinging doors of the auditorium.

The sound of the cheering crowd boomed through even though at least two walls separated Cheng from them in the safety of the hallway, where he leaned his back against one wall and hung his head down. The sound echoed in the corridor and made the floor shake, and eventually traveled into Cheng's ears, filling it up and overflowing. It seemed to muffle his senses.

His heart pounded just as loud. It sounded deep within him; like a low drum signaling a coming attack. It gave a negative connotation, and all at once he felt like the walls were closing in on him, soffocating him, and leaving him no way of escape. Cheng exhaled, his breath coming out in labored tufts of air, like a fish struggling to breathe, and he clenched his fist.

There was once a time when he would have goen out to the platform without a thought of hesitation; when he would stalk triumphantly up to the platform, flash a smile at the crowd (a smile that could easily have been a smirk, were there someone out there who cared enough to notice the difference), look to his teacher and teammates, and then face his opponent without any fear at all.

He had grown too used to victory, too accustomed to easily bringing down his challengers without even breaking a sweat, and he had forgotten what it felt like to lose, to be laughed at, to be scared, and now as he faced the final fight of the evening, he hid in the hallway. The fear felt like an entirely new sensation to him, like a bird taking its first flight after spending days with solid ground under its feet and then having to take in the feeling of having absolutely nothing underneath to catch him. He had built himself up and then let himself free-fall.

Cheng listened to his heart continually pumping blood through his body, and suddenly he was ten-years-old again and facing his very first tournament. Back then, he had been skinny, inexperienced, new, and very much afraid. He hid in the hallway, only a few shivers away from an anxiety attack, while out on the platform and tall boy waited to beat him to a pulp. It had been enough to make him pull out the first time.

But now was not his first tournament. It had been four years since then. Cheng knew he shouldn't be nervous. He shouldn't be scared, he shouldn't be hiding in the hallway from what was out there. But he still did. It wasn't the boy he fighting he was scared of, but rather he was scared of himself.

And as if the cheering crowd was not enough pressure upon his shoulders, he was scared of being inadequate, of not being good enough, of failing everyone. The air-conditioning was on and was blazing through the building, but he felt hot and dizzy. The anxiety only added to the feeling and the walls were slowly crushing him.

Eventually, it began to resemble drowning...drowning a boiling pot, where the water both burned and overwhelmed you at the same time, and if you didn't drown fast enough, then the boiling hot water would surely kill you. There was no way out.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sound of the crowd; some cheered his name and others chanted his opponent's name, but to him it only sounded like a loud bell, ringing in his ears, as if the sound of his own pounding heart were not enough to drive him mad. A haze was clouding his mind and he couldn't think; it was disorienting.

Cheng felt his knees giving away and he put one arm on the wall behind him, trying to steady himself. And just as he was ready to collapse, he felt something soft and warm being pushed into his hand, and he held it there and felt cool air suddenly returning and filling his lungs, and then he was able to breathe again.

Cheng looked down at the hand that was holding his, and the whole world went quiet. His heart was still going at 50 miles per hour, but Cheng felt her hand squeeze his and a calm swept over him. He looked up into her smiling face, and nothing was confusing anymore.

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TBC...

**Where is he? What is he thinking? Why is he in the hallway? Who's that holding his hand? Who could she be? Oh no! Thanks for reading... please review... I know it's been over-used, the whole "please review" thing, but seriously... please review...**

**-Monay**


	2. Chapter 1

**I'm doing my best to make sure I keep up with this story and its updates, but school just started and life's catching up with me. Also, I'm not very knowledgable about Chinese culture, but I'm doing some researc and trying my best, but if you see any mistakes about it, please point it out to me. Thanks.. and yes, I know I suck for making you guys wait. Sorry!**

**p.s. again I'm not Chinese, nor do I speak it, but I believe "Xing" is pronounced kinda like "Shing"**

**disclaimer: don't own "karate kid"**

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**CHAPTER 1**

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"Is everyone ready?" Mr. Wang took hurried steps as he walked from the bottom of the stairs over to the kitchen, where his catering staff was fast at work with the dishes they planned to serve that night. Mr. Wang wiped his forehead with a cloth to dry the sweat that was clearly evident on his face. It was clear that he was nervous a few of his clients and his superiors were coming over to his house for a dinner to meet and discuss some business prospects.

"Ying?" He called out. When no one answered, he tapped one of the waiters. "Where's my wife?" he asked.

"I'm over here, Jiawei. I'm just approving some of the dishes."

"Ah!" Mr. Wang walked over to where his wife stood, poised over a plate of hors d'oeuvres and bowl of steaming hot soup. "There you are. You shouldn't stand so close to the food, you might get some on your dress. Wouldn't want to ruin such a pretty-"

"I'll be just fine, I'm just making sure everything is where it should be." She bent over and tasted a spoonful of the soup. She smiled in appreciation.

"Is the living room prepared?" Mr. wang asked with a shaky voice.

"It's all done, dear. Don't worry about it."

"And what about the table? Is that set? I want to make a good impression."

"The table is set, darling. And don't worry, everything will be just fine. You're making me nervous."

"I know, I'm sorry. This dinner is very important for my business, it's a great opportunity."

Mrs. Wang reached over and began to fix her husband's tie. "Just relax, we're all prepared. The dinner will go according to plan."

"Let's at least hope it does. Are the caterers ready?"

"They're ready."

"Good. Looks like everything is in place. Well, everything except Cheng, that is. Where is that boy?"

"I haven't seen him since he went up to his room after practice."

"Well, then, Ying, will you please go upstairs and tell your son that I want him dressed and ready to meet the guests in precisely fifteen minutes. If not, I'm throwing his new bike into the dumpster. Fifteen minutes or the dumpster!"

The doorbell rang, and Mr. Wang rushed to answer the door. The guests began to file into the room and greeted Mr. Wang as they passed him. Mrs. Wang sighed and untied the apron from around her waist. She walked up the stairs and stood in front of the door leading into her son's room. She knocked.

"Cheng?" she said.

No answer.

"Sweetheart? Cheng, your father wants you to be dressed for the dinner, are you dressed yet?"

Still nothing.

"Cheng, I'm coming inside." She opened the door and let herself in. In the room, Mrs. Wang found her son on his bed, fast asleep.

"Aw," she went over to him and sat on the bed. Cheng was still dressed in the uniform he wore to the practice that afternoon. He lay down on his stomach and his back would rise and fall with each breath he took. He was in a deep sleep and could not be disturbed.

Mrs. Wang placed a hand on his back and bent down to kiss his cheek.

"You just go ahead and sleep, honey. You're exhausted." She stood up again and closed the door behind her and she left.

Cheng's eyes shot open the minute she did. He sat up in his bed and rested his head on the wall. What his mother said was correct; he _was_ exhausted from practice that day. He had stayed a little bit longer after the practice was over, and was even there earlier than all the other boys. Everyhting was complicated now, a fact that he had to acknowledge ever since he had lost that last tournament to Dre Parker.

It used to be so easy then; showing up at practice, sparring, kung fu, school, even just staying awake in the afternoon. But all that simplicity couldn't last of course, and he kissed all that away when he admitted defeat to that American. Now Master Li had lost some respect for him, the other boys, too. Since he lost that fight, he had been working harder and harder to regain their respect as well as his place at the top.

It was hard for him, of course. He wasn't much good at being at the bottom; he was used to being at the top, and he worked hard to be. But being there for so long, he'd forgotten how he got there in the first place. And now he was attempting to do things that he'd never had to do before. But at least he was trying.

Cheng moved over to the side of his bed, hopped off, and walked over to his closet. He picked out a comfortable pair of pants and shirt to change into. He decided that he would go to bed early that night.

He sighed as he moved his thoguhts onto another, and slightly more complicated, topic; Meiying. As if he didn't have enough struggles over kung-fu and school and Dre Parker, he also felt heartbroken over her decision of choosing Dre and not him.

He had only ever had a crush on a girl, but he was glad that it was her. Cheng really did like Meiying. He liked that she played music, he admired her kindness and she was smart. She was perfect.

Their fathers were business partners, and Cheng admitted to himself that he had liked her the first time he saw her. He was shy as a little boy and didn't talk to her much, but as he moved up in kung fu, his confidence began to build up as well, and he was certain that he could win her over then. The only thing that really came between them was Dre.

Cheng couldn't say that he hated Dre. Sure, he didn't like him as well as most other American kids, but he respected him. And their scores had been settled at that tournament. That was it. It was frustrating for him, not being able to do anything else to help himself.

Why couldn't she see that he liked her? Maybe even loved her. Cheng had known Meiying longer than Meiying had known Dre. Cheng felt more frustrated about that. Even he knew that it took time to know someone enough to love them, it wasn't as easy as walking into a park and spotting someone. He felt that he had a better chance than Dre. But something went wrong, and he didn't know what.

Cheng thought about what his grandparents would say. They were btoh eccentric people, but in their own old fashioned Chinese way, they were also wise. They would probably tell him that maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Cheng, in his pajamas, walked back over to his bed.

His eyes were heavy with sleep. He put his head down on the pillow and shut his eyes with only one last lingering thought: maybe it wasn't meant to be.

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The house was fairly big enough to fit their family, and have one room left over for whatever else they wanted to use it for. In three words, it could be described as "our perfect house". Or at least that was what Xing thought. She took care to make sure to use the word "house" and not "home". The house was beautiful and exactly what her family needed right now, but she couldn't bring herself to give it the title of "home".

"Home" was back in Hong Kong, where all her memories were, where she first knew the people that she called friends, where she took her first steps as a baby, and learned to ride a bike for the first time. Beijing was almost entirely different.

"Xing? Xing-a?" called her mother's bird-like voice from behind a hallway. "Can you help me bring this box in? It's heavy."

"Coming!" Xing answered, before setting down a picture frame on her bedside table and running off to help. She ran out the door and got ready to lift a big box, with her mother on the other side.

"Ok, 1... 2... 3! Lift!"

"What's in here? Why is it so heavy?" Xing asked.

"Pots and pans, I think. Or maybe some food. Come on, let's take it to the kitchen! Watch your step!"

Xing followed and helped her mother set the heavy box on the green counter in their kitchen. It was, like her mother said, filled with large and heavy pots and pans. Xing and her mother lifted them out of the box one at a time.

"Are you excited? Nervous?" her mother asked as she took a towel and wiped the inside of a tall pot.

"For what?" Xing asked. "About Beijing?"

"Beijing, new school, new house. Excited? Scared? How are you feeling?" her mother's mouth pulled into a soft soft smile and seemed to beg Xing with her eyes to give her some good news.

Xing sighed. "The house is pretty," she said.

"But?" he mother asked.

"But what?"

"You don't sound so sure, you sounded like you were going to say 'but',"

"It's big and pretty and perfect for us, what else is there to say?"

"So you don't like it?"

"Ma, that's not what I said."

"Ah, nevermind, then. We'll talk about it later. Come on, help me clean these pots up. Then we'll take them down to the bakery and see if your father needs help setting up. Then, if you want, we can go to the marketplace and buy some nice things for you. How does that sound?"

Xing only nodded in reply. In truth, she didn't know how her mother's offer sounded to her, and honestly, she would have liked to stay home. But her parents were so excited about the move, and Xing was determined to make sure that everything worked out for the best. Even if it meant leaving Hong Kong behind.

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"So traffic here, huh, Xing?"

"It's crowded," Xing answered her mother, who was seated in the driver's seat next to her. "Where's our shop anyway?"

Xing's mother hit the breaks hard, and she had to hold onto to the seat tightly to keep from flying forward.

"Oh jeez, Mama! Why do you always have to do that?" Xing yelled.

"If I hit the brakes too early the man behind us might run into us! I braked just in time, see the light?"

"Still! You scared me!" Xing's mother began to laugh warm-heartedly. "It's not funny, Mama." Xing said.

"There's our shop now, sweetie," said her mother in between fits of laughter. "Come on, let's go inside."

Xing's parents owned a restaurant. And a succesful one at that. It actually resembled more of a bakery than anything else. The building that house their business was tall, two stories high and painted blue on the outside.

"Here it is," Xing's mother said as she parked the car in front of their establishment. "You go on inside, I'll just unload the car."

Xing did as she was told and entered through the front door.

"Ah! Xing! There you are! So what do you think of the decoration?" her father, who was perched the top of a ladder, asked. Xing took a good quick look around the room. Her father had hung different colored tinsel across the ceiling, and the walls were painted red. It looked terrible. Xing's mouth hung open in surprise and she ran a hand through her long black hair.

"So?" her father asked again.

"Um," she murmured. "It's very... unique, Pa."

"Isn't it? I knew it! It was all the shiny string wasn't it?" Tinsel.

"Where's Kai?" Xing asked her father of the whereabouts of her older brother.

"I think he's on the second floor, you can find him. And call him down, I need his help with some things."

"Ok." Xing walked over to the stairs, with a rusting banister and equally red steps with chipping paint. She counted exactly 19 steps going up to the second floor. It led up to a larger room than the one downstairs, or so it appeared since there was furniture yet.

Kai, who was just two years her senior, was leaning against a wall and looking out of a big window. Xing walked over to him.

"Papa wants you to come down and help him."

"Mhmm," was all he could say. Xing stood and paused for a moment. Then she tugged at his sleeve. "Didn't you hear me? I said Papa wants you!"

"I heard! Get away from me, I'll be down in a little bit."

"What are you looking at anyway?" Xing stood by his side and looked out the window as he was. She saw what was so interesting to him. Out the window were some boys, hundreds of them, dressed in a red uniform, practicing kung fu, and yelling out in unison as their teacher shouted directions.

"Oh wow."

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To be continued...

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This chapter isn't as good as my prologue, well the way it was written, so my apologies and yes I know I suck for making you wait. But please review anyway... :)

-Monay


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